Morning journal and courier., 1887-04-12
THE HOME OF BUDDHa.
Strange Scenes in the ancient City of
 Benares.

Benares.
 [Cawnpore Corresr rondence Chicago Tribune.1
 About five hundred miles from it's mouth on the left bank of the Ganges, the great sacred river of the Hindu people, to propiti- ate which only few years ago mothers were wont to offer up their babes, is the city of idols and the home of idolatry, Benares. It is to the Hindo what Mecca is to the Moham- medan, and pilgrimage to it sometime during his life is the necessary journey of every true Indian pagan. Though there are no historical records to prove it. it is gene- rally conceded that it is one of the, if not the most ancient city in the world, and that even when Rome was founding Benares was centuries old.
 It is most peculiarly native in it's streets, it's buildings and it's inhabitants, and of all places in India, it is the place to see the abo- riginal habits, customs and people It num- bers it's temples in the thousands, but it's shrines are so many that no attempt is made to number them. The sacred monkey runs up and down the walls and over the altars of the temple of Durga Kund and the sacred bulls and cows wander about that of Anna pura and feed on the garlands that the woI- shipers cast before them. Just outside the city is the spot made sacred by Buddha's presence, and the tanks in which he bathed himself, his garments and his religious ves- sels, said to have been protected from the
  Benares is the religious seat of India, and might not inappropriately be called the capi- tai of heathenism.
 BENAEEs' BATHING CHATS.
 But notwithstanding it's many temples and shrines with their wonderful carvings, it's little narrow streets and lofty buildings, it's curious bazaars, by far the most interesting part of Benares the bathing ghats as seen from boat sailing up and down the (IanO0S. SnRDd hOnTS not tire, for there is panorama as changing kaleidoscope, and whose pictures are as brilliant as an artists imagination can paint them, for every day large proportion of the inhabitants, high caste and low, go down to the river to bathe in and to worship the di- vine stream as it goes rolling on it's way to the ocean, and the banks lined and the water filled with men, women and children are a sight never to be forgotten
 Here an old, gray haired man feebly wash es his shrunken legs and arms in the cleans ing and divine water. At his side stands a young Hindu matron, whose wet garment clings to her body and shows perfectly her well formed limbs. A Hindu dandy almost naked, sits only few feet away on the bank combing his long, oily locks and admiring himself in little mirror which he holds in one hand. A powerful, athletic looking man stands not far away swinging with all his might pair of primitive Indian clubs, while poor old bag comes out of the cold water and exposes her withered breast to the warm rays of the sun. Little boys and girls run into the water, splash about and then run out again and roll their wet bodies in the dust or lie down upon the warm stone steps that lead down to the water. On the top step sits motionless chubby infant whose mother has washed him and set him up there to dry.
 DARK HUED APHRoDITE.
 A young girl walks trippingly down to the edge of the water and daintiIy puts her we'll shaped foot, the toes of which are perhaps covered, though not adorned with rings, into the water as though to feel it's temperature, and then suddenly draws it out as if it turned out to be a little cold. But at last she plunges boldly in, and that wonderful river that has witnessed more sacrifices or murders than any other body of water in the world receives her beneath it's surface. above which second later she emerges like young mermaid and like the dark hued Aphrodits, shakes the drops of water from her hair.
 Down the bank come four men carrying on a stretoher dead body, with only cloth thrown over it, so thin that through it can be seen distinctly the outlines of the corpse. They pile up wood, place the corpse upon it, pile on more wood, and after few muttered words light the funeral pyre, while the friends and relatives of the dead sit around and watch the body as it burns in the open air. The wood drops down and one sees a leg half consumed or an arm burned ln two. But the attendants pile on more wood and the burning and the watching goes on. When all has been consumed the last few ashes are cast into the river. Down to the water comes high caste Brahmin woman clad in brilliant garments and attended by numerous servants, for all alike must bathe in the sacred stream.
 At intervals along the bank on raised plat forms sit the priests, by far the most intelll- gent looking of the great throng: And when they come out these priests paint the foreheads of the devotees witlR peculiar markings, accept their offerings and eneour- age them in their idolatrous practices. OH they go to some favorite temple to worship some idol and make way for the new corners who wish to bathe in the sanctifed stream. And the divine river goes on in it's course as it has done for centuries, receiving the devo- tions of the faithful who wash themselves in it's waters, and perhaps rejoicing that high CT civilization has put a stop to practice that made it the unconscious causs of many a mothers anguish and worship.